


Troubled Turtleducks

by sarcasm_for_free



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Animal Death, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Fire Nation Royal Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, POV Zuko (Avatar), Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasm_for_free/pseuds/sarcasm_for_free
Summary: “Why isn’t it getting up, Zuzu?“ Azula asked, looking a bit despondent at the carcass before her, her brows drawn together. Dissatisfied with his horror-stricken silence, she extended her left foot to nudge the charred flesh on the turtleduck’s belly with the tip of her shoe.Zuko isn’t too keen on having to give his 5-year-old sister a crash course on why it’s not okay to set fluffy animals on fire, but someone has to do it, and for some unfathomable reason, Azula had come to him. He’s not going to botch this up.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 488





	Troubled Turtleducks

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like “kid!Azula kills cute animals to the horror of her family” became a well-loved trope over the years. So, here’s my take on it!
> 
> Thanks to roqueamadi, my lovely beta!

“Why isn’t it getting up, Zuzu?“ Azula asked, looking a bit despondent at the carcass before her, her brows drawn together. Dissatisfied with his horror-stricken silence, she extended her left foot to nudge the charred flesh on the turtleduck’s belly with the tip of her shoe.

Running on instinct, Zuko snatched a handful of her trouser leg and tugged the limb away from the animal’s lifeless body. It wasn’t smoking, no recent incineration then, but the smell of burnt feathers and, suspiciously, last night’s dinner still clung to it, searing Zuko’s nostrils.

“Don’t do that!” he scolded her while trying to determine how long the poor creature had lain there in a patch of crushed fire lilies before Azula had lured him into the back garden with false promises of pilfered spice cakes. He really needed to rethink following her anywhere, ever.

Azula huffed and rolled her eyes, the same way she did when her tutors preached about the importance of perfecting standard katas first, instead of starting on advanced ones.

“Why is it not getting up?” she repeated and pried his stiff fingers from her leg, dropping them unceremoniously.

Tearing his eyes from the vicious burn on the animal’s soft upturned stomach, Zuko scrutinized his little sister. She was grumpy, frustrated, and apparently honestly baffled why a tortured and burnt animal didn’t spring back up like one of Uncle Iroh’s ridiculous Lee-in-the-box toys, which he foisted upon them when on leave – his latest attempt at being the fun uncle (when there wasn’t even any competition).

Zuko should go and look for their mother, he knew that, but Azula had come to him and these days she usually didn’t come to him for anything, except to taunt him about still being stuck doing breathing exercises. Gone were the days she, to his then growing annoyance, had toddled after him. He wished those times back now because they had been preferable to whatever this here was.

His lips tingled unpleasantly as he bit them, wracking his brain for an age and Azula appropriate explanation, which was a combination hard to come by.

Unsurprisingly, he came up at a loss. Fine, minimalistic, then.

“It’s dead, Azula.” He knew, at least, that she’d already been told what death was. That job had fallen to mom during that strange phase where Azula had asked after everyone she’d never got to meet, mainly Aunt Lira and Grandmother.

“Stop being stupid, it’s not dead. The others always get up when Father does it,” Azula insisted.

It felt like the world came to a sudden halt around him. All the flowers currently in bloom in the royal gardens were no match for the stench of singed flesh that seemed at once so much stronger than just a second ago.

“What?”

Azula’s hand was in his before he could consciously think about grabbing it. As always, his body had been faster than his mind. “When have you seen Father burning animals?” He jostled the tiny appendage while imploring her to tell the truth for once since starting this new hobby of hers, _What can I make Zuzu believe before he catches on_. He didn’t care for that game.

The look she gave his fingers gripping hers screamed confusion and affected disgust. Handholding was something for babies she’d told their mother just last week. Big girls and princesses didn’t do that.

“You’re such a dum-dum. Of course he doesn’t do it to animals. They’re just for training.” By Agni, how often had she done this already, mutilating animals? And had Father–? “He sometimes burns courtiers or servants when they displease him or are annoying him.” She said it so matter-of-factly, he wasn’t sure how to take it.

So, no frying animals for Father. Just courtiers.

Her hand stayed in his, and while she continued to look as if she would like him to let her go sometime in the near future, she didn’t slap it away or heat her hand up enough to burn. Princesses were too dignified for handholding. Five-year-olds who’d just burnt a hole through a fluffy animal’s tummy apparently not. Her hand was still small enough to fit completely into his, was swallowed by it, even.

There were causes for Father’s actions, and they made sense. He just had to put them together first, despite being slow on the uptake, as always.

He started rationalizing, for Azula’s benefit (and his own).

“We’re in the Fire Nation, and this is the Royal Palace, where only the best of the best are allowed to stay. So most of them were probably firebenders, and the others–“ He stopped. How to explain it to her without painting their father as someone who hurt people without a care? He wasn’t like that, Zuko knew that for sure. Their father was strict and had high expectations because that was what their country needed – people in charge, who showed the rest how to better themselves. And sometimes a lax hand was counterproductive to achieving that goal. Sometimes, tough love was necessary. Everyone said so.

Showing Azula the difference between that and what she’d unwittingly done was hard, though. He wasn’t that good with words, never had been. He really should have called for Mom, she would never make a mess of this conversation. But aside from the burst of pride it had given him that Azula had asked specifically for him, he guessed she would have just played huffy and ignored everything Mom had to say because their mother was a turtleduck feeder in her spare time. (As was Zuko, but since his technique included throwing whole loaves of bread at them – thanks, Azula, for the tip – Azula might still take better to his approach.)

“Uh.” He cast his eyes around for something to say that wasn’t total rubbish and ended up right where he’d started. At the dead creature to their feet.

“Right. Look at it this way. What’s the difference between a turtleduck and a courtier?”

Azula’s left eyebrow almost touched her hairline in disbelief as her lip curled churlishly.

“Is this one of Uncle’s stupid jokes?”

That hadn’t been his intention, but, “Well, they both quack all day.”

The snicker from his side threw him off for a hot second.

He shook his head to dislodge the image of a turtleduck courtier bringing a petition for fair breadcrumb distribution forth and used their clasped hands to draw a frowning Azula, disgruntled by her own laugh, a few steps away from the corpse. He hoped she couldn’t tell how sweaty his palm was starting to become.

“But I asked you what the difference between them is. Look at it next to us,” he said.

She snorted and cocked her head to the side. “It’s an animal. _Obviously_.”

Yeah, thanks, no need for that tone.

“And?” he needled.

She screwed her face up. “It’s smaller? What do you want from me, Zuzu? It’s a stupid, tiny animal, end of the story.”

A relieved sigh left him. “Exactly! It’s tiny. It’s smaller than us, and we have a duty to not hurt things smaller than us, if we can. They’re weaker.”

She leveled her eyes up and down his body, still a head taller than her, and then gestured with her free hand at herself.

Pulling her hair was probably not mature behavior for a prince, but he wanted to do it so badly right now.

Drawing a deep breath, he resisted and opened the hand clutching hers to, instead, drape his arm over her shoulders in a bold move he prayed he wouldn’t live to regret. “And sometimes small things are not weak, I know.”

She seemed pleased, if the little hum was to be believed, but not won over. Azula always had to be difficult. Mom said it ran in the family.

“Okay,” Zuko muttered to himself. “Okay, then like this.”

He spoke slowly, thinking every word through as if he was reciting an especially tricky foreign law – one of those jutted down in unfamiliar handwriting in his favorite text book, the unsanctioned one he’d received from Master Pau. (He didn’t know where the man was now. After their lesson on parole rituals of the Nothern Watertribe, Pau had vanished without a word. Didn’t even say goodbye. His new teacher had better court manners but wasn’t as nice. Not at all.)

“Don’t hurt things weaker than yourself, and don’t do it just because you can.” He paused. This was the tricky part. “If Father burns people, it’s because they’re firebenders and can take it, or it’s just to a small degree.” Like the spark welts Zuko earned when he answered questions wrong. It was a learning tool. You had to learn and remember to get better.

“But _really_ young kids, non-benders, or animals can’t do that. They’re not, er, fire resistant. You know that.”

She gave him the stink eye but kept silent, thus Zuko ignored it and the fact that she fortunately for him didn’t consider herself ‘really young’ for the moment. (Kids, huh, they always thought they were all grown up.) He couldn’t remember when the last time was he’d held her attention for this long.

“They’re too small or soft to get it. It’s not fair, they can’t fight back.” Not that the other nobles or servants could. That would be considered treason. But Father had his reasons and they were just.

Azula blew him a raspberry, but he was almost done, so he just patted the shoulder he was cupping, albeit awkwardly. “And don’t hurt people and animals that trust you. Animals are, as you said, stupid. They trust everyone at first.” And some people did that too, exhibit A thought wryly.

“If they’re so stupid, they deserve it.” She wriggled her shoulders, yet Zuko wasn’t sure it was to break free of his loose hold. She could have done that any time.

“Um.” His palm was so wet with sweat by now, he wondered why Azula hadn’t slapped him or at least raked her blunt little nails down the middle to scare him off for making her feel soggy.

Maybe there was his answer.

He ducked his head to solemnly stare into her eyes. “If I burned you, would that be okay?” he asked.

“As if you could,” she scoffed.

He was trying to demonstrate something, to make a point, but he was also obviously suicidal. There was no other explanation for what he did next. (Well, except for finally giving into the urge.)

After a deflecting an overly projected sigh, he dove with his free hand right into her hair and rumpled it like there was no tomorrow, to the sound of her high-pitched screeching, wrecking her topknot into a sad mangled mess barely holding together by the thread of its golden tie.

Amid her excessive screaming was a hiccupped laugh, he was sure.

“You’re so stupid, Zuzu!” She scrambled away from him, thumping his hip with her tiny fist, packing much less of a punch than he knew her capable of. Also, still no fire. Score.

“And bigger and older than you,” he said, grinning half-heartedly, trying to look away from the slowly rotting turtleduck whose milky eyes seemed to stare him down. There was a limit to how long he could look at them and its cracked shell and razed feathers without tasting bile in the back of his throat.

“I’m bigger, I’m older, I’m a prince, and yeah, you’re strong, but you’re also my younger sister, still growing, and you trust me.” He said the last part like a question, yet didn’t expect to get an answer.

Azula scooted a few steps away, in the process letting his arm fall from her shoulders, but not far enough to be considered safe should he try the same again, and peered at him from beneath her ruined fringe as she tried to set her hair to rights, with no luck. She’d never had to bind it herself before and it showed.

Zuko sent her an uneasy smile, a bit crooked and screaming sorry in capital letters. He made a twirl gesture with his fingers. “Come on, turn around.”

For a moment nothing happened, then Azula squinted at him out of flinted amber eyes and started moving, keeping him as long in her sight as possible while she did exactly as he’d asked. Wonders never ceased.

When she faced forward, in direct line with the turtleduck, she handed him the hair tie without a glance. “You better not make it worse, or else,” she threatened, despite showing him her unprotected back.

Lest she changed her mind, Zuko set immediately to work. He carded his fingers clumsily through the black strands (and she only stepped onto his toes once when he encountered a tangle), then he gathered the glossy mass and arranged it into a bun, catching a few wayward locks to stuff them back in with the others. It was harder to do than his phoenix plume, but Mom had let him play with her hair often enough when he was younger that he didn’t do too badly, if he said so himself. It wasn’t the tidiest topknot, but neat enough Azula wouldn’t try to burn his eyebrows off in retaliation.

As Zuko wrapped the fine band around the bun’s base, he finished his original lecture. “It’s just not okay to hurt someone like that.” He tightened the ends and tucked them under the edge of the tie. “And I wouldn’t want to do it anyway. I won’t ever hurt you. Because?” he prompted her, petting one last time over Azula’s new hairdo.

Let her come to her own conclusions by being slowly led to them like a turtleduck to water. (Worst proverb for this specific situation, but Uncle would have been proud.)

“Because it’s bad, I get it,” she groused and kicked a pebble instead of the corpse in front of her. It was an improvement.

“Among other things.”

He hadn’t driven this imaginary cart full of adult stuff into the dirt, he was allowed to be proud of himself for a change. (Don’t look at the turtleduck, don’t.)

Azula danced out of the way of his hands and turned back to him. “I could never be afraid of you.” She smirked, her worryingly sharp baby teeth glinting. “You’re too slow.”

With that said, she darted to his side and snatched the crimson sash from around his waist, ripping it off like it had never been knotted in the first place. Hoisting it up, akin to a silken Fire Nation banner, she ran back towards the main garden, letting her prize fly behind her in the breeze.

“Azula!” he yelled, chasing after her while mentally preparing himself to, later on, after he’d puked, shovel a tiny grave behind the rose bushes and persuade Azula to attend the funeral.

For now, though, he had to catch a thief.

* * *

Years later, Azula had forgotten most of the things her brother had ever tried to tell her, teach her, or whatever. It was trash and, at best, garbled quotes he’d learned and misremembered from Uncle Iroh.

She was the prodigy, her father’s favorite, and of course she’d learned all the important lessons from him. Strategic brilliance right from the source. There was no need to look further.

Even so, as she watched her father loom above her brother’s prostrated form on the Agni Kai stage, the torches around them burning brighter and higher with the anticipation of everyone in the stands fueling them, she couldn’t swallow the grin growing on her face, because Zuko would get a scolding of epic proportions. He’d probably barricade himself in his room for a month and dab his puny first grade blisters with salve while whining like a baby.

Zuko was so tiny next to Ozai, so young in comparison, declaring to the whole world how much he trusted his father and Fire Lord.

And, as she’d learned once upon a time, you didn’t hurt small, weak, and trusting things.

**Author's Note:**

> And then she was alone with her father for three years and was brainwashed even worse than before.  
> If there ever was a total mental breakdown done right on TV, it’s Azula’s.
> 
> I appreciate and love every kind of feedback, may it be comments, kudos, bookmarks or recs <3


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